Mass Effect: The Hunt
by Death's Spectre
Summary: When the Council sends a Spectre to track down the Shadow Broker, they don't know about the Spectre's past. What will he do when they find out? More complete summary inside. Better than I can make it sound here. First fanfic ever, reviews appreciated!
1. Summary

The year is 2190.

The Citadel is recovering from the damage done to it by Sovereign and the Geth incursions. Humanity now has a seat on the Council, their interests represented well by former-Captain Anderson. The galaxy worries about the future Reaper assault, and the every race is working together to find ways to survive.

But, as ever, there are those who look only for personal gain, not for the greater good. Therefore, the Spectres are needed just as much as ever.

One has been sent out to track down the Shadow Broker. The Shadow Broker, the greatest information dealer in the entire galaxy, has been turning to ever more violent means to accomplish his goals. The Spectre has been sent to find him, and either take him in for arrest or aid, for the Shadow Broker undoubtedly has knowledge that would be of great help in upcoming battles, or to assassinate him.

But the Spectre has a background that he has kept hidden, even from the Council. His request to be the one sent after the Shadow Broker is not purely a desire to do good, but for something else, a much darker reason. But when the Council finds out, what will he do?

The story begins on the planet of Acacallis, where the Spectre has tracked down a former agent of the Shadow Broker that might have the information he needs.


	2. Chapter 1

The man had only minutes to live, unless I got to him first.

This I knew for a fact. As I ran down the hallway, pushing workers out of my way, I was sure that other forces were doing the same as I was. The man had been an agent for the Shadow Broker, and had gotten his hands on some very powerful information during his time. Then he had retired.

At least, in theory. Apparently, he couldn't quite stop using his contacts to get information and selling it in order to finance his ever-expanding empire. He owned hundreds of businesses, most legitimate, some less so. His home was a veritable palace, complete with buttresses, stone fortifications, and heavily armed guards. I'm surprised no one had ever questioned how he'd gotten so much money in the first place.

Although, with his resources, simply making anyone who got too curious disappear wouldn't be too difficult. Myself included.  
He had apparently gotten his hands on some very sensitive information, something the Shadow Broker wanted for himself. Either that or something the Shadow Broker would kill to protect. Like his identity. Or her identity. Or _their_ identity. I wasn't really sure which, but from the information I'd gathered over the last couple years, I was guessing the Shadow Broker was male, in his sixties, and not a whole lot else. He protected his identity extremely seriously. And he was a patient, subtle man. He knew exactly what to do when it needed doing.

Which was why this latest act had me worried. The Shadow Broker could have simply waited until the target exposed himself, and then taken him out much more quietly, as was his usual way of doing things. Or, he could have gotten his hands on some piece of information that would have forced the target to keep his mouth shut. The Shadow Broker was _very_ good at that.

But he hadn't. He'd sent an army of heavy armed mercenaries to silence the man forever. Another difference from his usual methods. Usually, he kept a low profile and kept the true amount of people he had under his control a secret. This time, he hadn't even bothered to hide his movements. At least not from someone like me who was looking. Sending an army made my job a lot more difficult. If he'd sent one man to assassinate the target, I could have intercepted him without problems, and then used him to get to the Shadow Broker.

Instead, I have to get the target out of the building, away from the mercenaries, and hope that whatever information he has is worth his life. If it wasn't, I'd be back to the beginning and he'd be dead. Eight years of my career wasted. Thousands of credits, gone. Not exactly the best circumstances, considering I didn't even know what the hell I was going to all the trouble for.

Running through the palace, I took no notice of the finely tiled floor, or the stained glass windows, both of which would have cost me several months' salary to own. I didn't even notice the beautiful blond secretary who worked behind the main desk. No, my mind was finely tuned on the mission ahead, and what I'd have to do to get out of here with my target and my life. I was too experienced to let those minor details get in the way of my job.

Brushing past the claustrophobia-inducing workers, I heard the high-pitched whine of gunfire in the distance. That would be the competition come to claim their prize. Not if I had anything to say about it.

Taking turns through the winding hallways, following a map of the palace I had memorized earlier, I found myself in front of the door to the target's office. An electronic sign on the door read "Marcus Berentius, CEO."

Finally.

Pushing open the door, I found myself confronted by another secretary. She looked up from her desk, no doubt expecting to see yet another worker or dignitary who required little more than an identification and a smile to let pass through. Seeing me, however, she froze for a second, and then gave me an uneasy smile. This told me two things. First of all, she was used to having heavily armed figures coming into the room. Second, she had very good control of her reactions.

I will admit, I cut a very imposing figure. Standing six feet, four inches, I was easily a foot taller than she was. My bulk filled the doorway, encased as it was in a suit of Kassa Fabrication-manufactured body armor. The dark red and black of the armor, signature of the Colossus line, usually caused a healthy amount of fear in everyday citizens. The pistol on my hip and the assault rifle in my hands also added quite a lot to the fear factor.

But all she did was smile. I'll admit, I was impressed. I'm not awed by people running through the fires of battle and doing some heroic feat. I've done that far too many times to be daunted. No, I'm impressed by cunning, smarts, and above all, control. They can solve a lot more than a gun. If I had been her, sitting behind a desk with no weapon or armor, basically been helpless, seeing a person like me walk through the door, I think I might have shit myself.

She didn't. She just smiled at me and said "Do you have an appointment with Mister Berentius?" in a sweet, sing-song voice.

"An _appointment_?" I yelled at her. "No, I do not have a goddamn appointment! Do you hear what's going on out there?" She just looked at me; obviously she had not.

"There's an army on the way to this office, right now! And if you want to get out of here alive, you'll move the hell out of my way and let me see your goddamned boss!" Usually I don't yell this much, but as I've said, I was stressed and the sounds of gunfire were getting closer; apparently the mercs had made it inside.

She could hear it too. Her eyes got wide with fear, and she gave me a quick nod. She touched a button on her display and said "Authorized visitor," obviously a voiceprint to unlock the door behind her. The door hissed open and she took her hand off of the display. It didn't shake. My admiration for her went up another level. She pushed herself up using the desk. Her right hand, I noticed, held a pistol. Obviously not as unarmed as I had originally thought.

Noticing the direction of my gaze, she said "Sometimes employees get angry with Mister Berentius. Sometimes violently so. My job is to make sure only _authorized _visitors get in. No matter what that means." From the way she held that pistol, I guessed that she was extremely well trained. Possibly ex-military, although she definitely didn't look it. Long legs, full breasts, and a nice ass all made her seem like just another secretary. I had to admire Berentius's choice. No one would ever have suspected her.

Following her through the door, I broke into a quick trot. She started to lock the door, but I grabbed her and pulled her with me. "That door won't stop the people coming for your boss. It wouldn't even slow them down. So come on!"

At the end of the hallway there was another door. Entering her voiceprint again, the secretary stepped through the door into a plush office. In the corner to the right of me there was a couch and several chairs, probably used for more informal staff meetings. Also, along the western wall there was a bar that looked like it was stocked with every liquor sold in this system. Probably cost more than the rest of the room put together.

And in the center of the room was a dark, wooden desk behind which sat a dark-skinned man. He was wearing a dark blue business suit and a dark blue tie. His hair was dark brown, cut fairly short, and greased back.

_Amazing,_ I thought. _After over a half a century and finding all kinds of alien species, humanity's businessmen still wear the exact same thing._ I marched straight up to the desk and placed my palms on the surface. Staring intently at him, I said calmly "Mister Berentius, your offices are under attack as we speak. The Shadow Broker does not seem to be very happy with you. Whatever you have, someone really doesn't want you to have it, and I'm here to get you, and that information, out."

He gave me the blank look that people give when they hear unwanted information they can't comprehend. They never think it'll happen to them. And yet the ones who believe it the most are the ones who are the most likely for it to happen to. Must be the sense of power that comes with fleecing unsuspecting civilians. I've felt it a couple of times when I've suckered a few people out of information they wouldn't have otherwise given me.

After looking at me for a couple of seconds, he looked at his secretary. She gave him a frantic nod, the panic on her face controlled, but definitely there. He must have thought she was afraid of me, because then he said, "I don't know who you are, but you have no business coming into my home and trying to take me away! I'm calling security to take you away, and if I ever see you again-"

He stopped, choking from the fist I had around his throat. Lifting him up one-handed, I held him out in front of me while drawing my pistol with my other hand. I placed it against the side of his temple, causing him to wince. His feet feebly tried to kick out at me, but unarmored feet generally do not do much against high-grade combat armor. The kicks probably hurt him a lot more then they hurt me.

"Now," I said, pushing the pistol harder into his head. "I want you to calm down and show me the way out of here. Not the front entrance; the hidden one I'm sure you have around here somewhere. Right now, you have information I need, so I need you alive. Well, perhaps _need_ isn't the right word. I could always kill you and then find out the information anyway. But that's so slow and _bothersome_." His face began turning purple. "So, how about you show me the way out of here, and you and I can go our separate ways and live happily ever after?"

He struggled for another moment, but then his feet stopped kicking and he nodded. As much as my hand would let him anyway.

I let him down, and he fell to his knees, rubbing his throat and coughing up phlegm. He glared up at me, but there wasn't much force behind it. I think he'd realized that I was being serious and that he really didn't have another choice if he wanted to get out alive. He slowly rose to his feet, and then shuffled over to his desk on shaking legs. I kept my pistol trained on him the whole way.

When he got to the desk, he reached underneath it and felt around. I raised my pistol a fraction of an inch higher, my sights settling on the side of his head. I noticed a rectangular mark there from the pressure of my pistol being forced against it. I really had no idea what was happening with me. I almost never physically threatened my targets, but here one was, with a massive red mark on his head to prove that I had. This assignment was extremely personal, but still I was losing control of my anger, something very dangerous for a person in my position. Control was everything. That had been drilled into me from day one of my training. When I got out of here, I would have to take some time and concentrate on controlling my emotions.

Berentius took his hand away from his desk. No gun. I lowered my pistol to my side and holstered it. "So, where's the entrance, Berentius?" I asked.

"It's back in the hallway," he said, rubbing his head. "Behind the portrait of the Citadel. It leads out into the desert a few miles from here. I have a ship and supplies hidden there. I can get on board and-"

For the second time in as many minutes, Berentius was interrupted in the middle of a sentence. This time, however, it was not because of my overzealous rage that he stopped. This time, it was because the door to his office had just been blown open by a breaching charge, throwing the three of us across the room.

As I flew through the air, my mind began working at the adrenaline-fuelled speed caused by the start of combat. As I flew backwards, I tucked my knees into my chest and somersaulted, while my hands grasped my assault rifle. I landed in a crouch, my feet poised underneath me to spring for a tackle or to drop down and draw my weapon, whatever the situation required.

This situation required the latter. As the first of the mercenaries charged through the door, expertly scanning the room with his rifle, I dropped to one knee and raised my rifle. As the merc trained his rifle on me, I opened fire, spitting a sheet of small particles accelerated past the speed of light. The merc's shields held for a second, but they weren't designed to hold up to that volume of fire from that short range. They failed, and two of my shots tore through his chest armor, stopping in his liver. The rest missed, but only because my two shots had thrown him off his feet and so my shots went over his head.

After he went down, another merc came barreling through the door, his gun already pointed in my direction. I knew that I couldn't get mine around in time, but I tried anyway. As my gun swung towards him, the merc raised his rifle an inch higher, his aimer on my head for a kill shot.

They say that when you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. They say you can see your past and your future that could have been. They say all sorts of things, but none are true. All that happened was time seemed to slow down. I could clearly see the man's face, his blue eyes locked on mine, the dark grey of his rifle barrel pointed at my head, and the muscles on his arms bulging. I could even make out individual beads of sweat on his forehead.

I also saw the storm of bullets that tore through his shields and blew out the back of his head, shooting his brains across the room, where they landed on Berentius's plush couch. Looking to my right, I saw the secretary on her feet, holding her pistol two-handed, the barrel still smoking from firing. Her body was perfectly interposed between the doorway and Berentius, who was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. She gave me a curt nod and then turned her attention back to the doorway, opening fire again.

I also moved my rifle to cover the doorway. My fire, combined with the secretary's, shredded the next merc that attempted to cross the threshold.

However, I knew this wouldn't be anywhere near enough. The only reason we were still alive was because the mercs couldn't throw grenades because the backblast from the detonation would toast anyone left in the hallway. But they'd get remotely detonated bombs or other explosives that solved that problem. We needed to leave, and quickly.

The secretary had already figured that out. She was wrapping one arm around her boss, even as she used the other to fire back at the doorway. Using signals I hoped she would know, I indicated that I wanted for me to go first through the doorway, so I could cover her and Berentius as we made our escape. She nodded, and wrapped her other arm around Berentius. When she was ready, I ran out of the doorway. I ended up face to face with a merc.

The merc had his gun partially raised, pointing towards the wall to his side. I continued running and crashed into him, pinning the rifle to his body. Unfortunately, so was mine. I knew I didn't have much time. This merc was strong, as strong as me. Also, he had comrades right behind him. I had one, and her hands were tied. So I did the first thing that came to me. I rammed my head, full-force, into his nose. The sound of breaking bone was audible. He reeled backwards, blood streaming from his nostrils. I whipped my rifle up, firing the whole way. The shots tore through his body, stitching holes from his groin to his head. The man fell over without making a sound. I charged forward again without looking behind me. I had to trust that the secretary would follow me.

The walls around me were covered in portraits, several of which were covered in bullet holes. The portraits depicted several important moments in human history. The downfall of Nazi Germany, the Battle of Hastings, the saving of the Citadel by Commander Shepard, among several others. Stopping at the portrait of the Citadel, I stuck my gun on my chest and then tore the portrait off the wall with both hands. It clattered to the floor with a bang.

At least, that's what I thought until waves of pain began radiating from my left arm. I looked down the hallway and saw a merc pointing a pistol at me. Since my left arm no longer worked, I drew my pistol with my right arm and tore through the merc's shields with three shots. Then five blue streaks flew through the space next to my head and hammered into the merc's body. Blood exploded from his wounds and he fell to his knees until another round of shots blew through his face.

The secretary was standing on the side of the hallway, in a doorway I hadn't noticed behind the Citadel portrait. Berentius was sitting on the ground, groaning. He looked groggy, but looked like he could walk.

I retreated back towards the doorway, firing off random shots with my pistol. I pushed the secretary through the door, and she stumbled down a flight of stairs that led about twenty feet before leveling out. After making sure that she and Berentius were safe, I looked back down the hallway. Somewhere around twenty mercs were crowded around the entrance. I knew they would overrun us before we got far.

I turned and ran down the dark, metal corridor. Shining steel plates reflected the light from the lamps hanging from the ceiling. It looked like a twentieth century mining tunnel made out of steel. I swept the secretary and Berentius along with me. I tucked them behind a corner in the tunnel. Looking back, I saw three of the mercs standing in the doorway we had run through.

I gave them a feral grin. Then I pressed a glowing green button on my gauntlet. The button activated the grenades I had left behind on the doorframe. The three mercs were instantly vaporized, and the grenades also brought down the ceiling above the door. It completely blocked the doorway, although I knew that was only buying us time. The mercs no doubt had explosives too.

I grabbed Berentius and the secretary off the floor and pulled them down the hallway. When we got farther down, I turned around and faced Berentius. "All right, where do we go from here?" I asked him. The tunnel behind me branched into three different directions.

"Far right," he wheezed. He coughed up dirty spit onto the floor. He started to walk into the tunnel, but I grabbed him by the collar of his now-dirty suit. "Look," I spat into his face. "I need the information you have. Now, I can help you get out of here, but you have to do what I say, when I say it. I tell you to drop, you hit the floor. Understand?"

Berentius nodded.

"Good. Now, I want you to stay with your secretary here. She'll cover you and make sure you get out alive."

"She's not my secretary," Berentius said sternly. "She's my _bodyguard_."

_Oh_. That made more sense.

"Well, in any case, keep her with you. I'll take point and scout ahead. I'll get you on your communicator when I reach an intersection."

I turned to the secretary. "What's your name?" I asked her.

"Kristine Masters," she replied. God, she was beautiful. Her black hair cascaded down her shoulders and partway down her back. Her eyes were a deep green and her cheekbones gave her a noble look that I found extremely attractive. I had to make an effort not to stare.

"Kristine, I need you to keep your eye on Berentius and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. I need him alive."

"What about me?" she asked, her eyes boring into mine.

"I have no reason to see either you or your boss dead. Stay with me, and you'll make it out of here and be able to do whatever it is that you want." I replied.

She simply gave me a look that said she didn't believe me and turned around.

"Wait," I said. She turned back around, a look of curiosity on her face. I walked up to her and took the assault rifle off my chest. I turned it around and handed it to her butt-first. She grabbed it out of my hand after holstering her pistol.

"I can't use it any more with my arm the way it is," I said, wincing as another flash of pain moved up my arm.

She glanced at my wound, and then reached around to one of the back pockets of her suit. She pulled out a container of medi-gel. "We don't have time to do the kind of work that you need," she said, spreading the gel over my wound. "But this should keep it sterile and allow you at least partial use of your arm."

I started to relax as I felt the medi-gel's numbing agent shut down the pain receptors in my arm. "Thanks," I replied. "Give me your pistol," I added. "I should be at least able to manage that with my arm now. Two is better than one, I suppose."

Masters hesitated, and then took the gun out of her holster and handed it to me. The two pistols felt reassuringly comfortable in my hands. I may have been better with my rifles, but these would suffice for now.

I turned away and headed off down the tunnel, my footsteps echoing in the emptiness of the tunnel. The grey walls seemed to stretch on forever in front of me. I was guessing I had a good ten or so kilometers before I reached the exit, if it was in the desert like Berentius said. A long trek to take, but I had no doubt that the mercs would in the tunnels within an hour, so I took it at top speed.

My senses were all concentrated on the halls ahead of me. I paused only occasionally to comm Masters and check to find out which way to turn. After about an hour, she commed me saying she had heard an explosion coming from behind us. My prediction had been accurate.

I commed her back. "Ask Berentius how much longer these tunnels go on." If they went on too much farther, I didn't think that we would be able to get away from the pursuing mercs.

Her comm went dead for a second, just long enough for her to ask one quick question and get one quick answer. Then it went active again.

"He says it goes on for another kilometer, and then it ends." Her sweet voice replied.

"Thanks," I replied, turning off my communicator. Well, one kilometer should be okay, provided our pursuers didn't catch up during the intervening time. But I could run the kilometer in under five minutes without too much loss in my senses. I'd been going at one kilometer every twenty minutes before. I commed Masters again.

"I'm picking up the pace up here. Keep up with me. We need to get out of here as quickly as possible." I told her.

"Right. We're about five minutes behind you," She replied.

Turned off my communicator yet again and then turned around and headed down the hallway. The hallway was starting to get warmer, so I was getting closer to the end. I could also feel a breeze, rather warm from the desert air. I stopped at the last corner and waited for a few minutes until Masters and Berentius arrived. Masters looked no worse for the wear; in fact, she seemed to glow from the work, as though doing the job she trained for made her beauty become enhanced. Berentius, on the other hand, looked completely exhausted, sweat running down his face and stains were appearing under his armpits. He was panting from the exertion. Probably should have put a vehicle in the tunnel. That would have saved us some time.

"What's the sitrep?" Masters asked. Another confirmation of her military background, not like I needed any more.

"I was just waiting until you two showed up to make a break for it." I replied. "The Shadow Broker knows a lot, probably including the location of this tunnel. I'm just hoping they haven't destroyed the ship."

"I'm going to run out and draw any fire. Then you follow up and get Berentius to the ship. I'll join you once you're safe on board. Understand?"

"Yeah, I've got it," Masters answered. "Good luck."

I braced myself against the wall, preparing for the run. I took a long breath, and then dashed out of my position. I ran straight up the sloping hallway and burst out into the blazing heat of the desert. The sun beat down on my face, and my feet sank into the sand as soon as the metal floor ended. I also ran out into the firing zone of the mercs waiting just outside.

They had been waiting for us, just outside of the entrance. They were all behind slabs of metal that Berentius had had placed there in order to stop pursuers. Unfortunately, they also worked against me. I don't think Berentius had worked out that part. He didn't seem to have the mind of a soldier.

My kinetic barriers flashed as they deflected several shots that would have hit me square in the chest. The shots took the barriers down to forty percent. I was lucky that my run out had thrown off the mercs. If I had gone out slowly and carefully, they would have been in perfect position to cut me down.

I fired off several sporadic shots with my pistols and dove for cover behind one of the dark grey slabs that the mercs weren't using. I scanned the area, noting the green, square building behind me, probably housing the spacecraft Berentius had stored here. There were about ten mercs spread out across a sixty meter area, all huddled behind those metal blocks. I knew there was no way we could take them all out, not with the reinforcements coming up the tunnel. If we weren't out of here within five minutes, we'd all be dead. I commed Masters.

"We need to get out of here now!" I yelled over the sound of gunfire. God I missed my helmet with its built-in vox. "I'm going to set up a smokescreen and I want you to move as fast as possible and get to the ship. You know where it is, I'm sure. I'll be right behind you, understand?"

"I've got it." Her voice replied, now laced with steel. She was ready. "We can only stay down for a few seconds before they start shooting the ship, so you'll have to be quick too."

"Understood," I replied. I readied my grenades.

"Go."

I burst up from cover, throwing my remaining six grenades in an arc, scattering them across the landscape. When they got close enough, I pressed the detonator button on my gauntlet.

The explosions scythed down two of the stupider mercs, who hadn't taken cover when I threw the grenades. The blasts also threw up massive amounts of smoke into the air. The intense heat and cloud of sand overwhelmed the motion trackers in the merc's helmets.

Masters and Berentius burst out of the tunnel, Kristine keeping pace with the slower man. She expertly used her body to shield Berentius from the mercs. The shots the mercs managed to get out were unaimed and missed the two entirely. They made it across and through the door into the building.

I followed, hopping from cover to cover and firing off both pistols at any target that I could see. The two pistols were very comforting in my hands, and they rate of fire they sent out was astonishing. I wasn't very familiar with them, but they still served their purpose better than I'd expected.

I was almost to the building when I heard engines powering up. I broke cover and sprinted for the door, ignoring the shots that tore past me. A couple pounded into my shields, several more tore through. As I reached the door, one hit me in the back of the right leg. I flew through the door, landing hard on my face on solid concrete. I tasted blood in my mouth, and I could feel it running down my right leg. I started crawling towards the ship, a sleek Defender-class frigate. It was armored, and had twin cannons up front and quad turrets on top for defense. It was used for high-level dignitaries who wanted a reasonable degree of protection for an affordable price. Normally I'd be angry, because private citizens weren't supposed to have that kind of firepower, but right now I was very glad to see it.

Unfortunately, I could hear the mercs shouting outside and I was starting to go into shock. I could recognize the graying around the edge of my vision. I wouldn't make it.

I heard one of the mercs enter the building, his boots pounding on the concrete. I imagined him taking aim at my head, getting ready to pull the trigger. Then a flurry of shots flew over my body. I heard the distinctive sound of a body hitting the floor.

Masters stood at foot of the frigate's ramp, firing the rifle that I'd given her. She ran over to me, and grabbed me by my collar, dragging me one-handed towards the shuttle. Then I blacked out and only got flashes of vision and coherency.

Masters dragging me up the shuttle's ramp and slamming the button down to raise the ramp.

Her putting me in a chair and strapping me in, and then taking the pilot's seat. She grabbed the controls and gunned the engines. The walls fell down, obviously not meant to stand up to the frigate's taking off. With a grin on her face, she turned the frigate back towards the ground and opened fire with the cannons on the front end. The mercs turned and ran, but the shells chased them down and turned them into clouds of bloody mist and flying body parts.

Then Kristine turned the craft spaceward and accelerated into the dark blue sky. The g-forces caused me to pass out again.

When I awoke, her beautiful face was hovering above me. I felt like I was floating, no doubt on some sort of drugs. But I could still make her out and I was glad. She was the first person I'd met in a long time that I trusted, and yet I barely knew her. I tried to smile at her, but I could tell if I succeeded because I couldn't feel my face. But I think I did, because she smiled at me.

"We're in normal space outside of Acacallis." She said, her voice sounding hazy and indistinct. Acacallis was the planet we had been on. What she was saying was that we were basically in the middle of nowhere. "You lost a lot of blood, but I was able to patch you up in the medical suite on the ship. I wasn't sure what you wanted to do, but I don't think it would be safe for us to go back to any of Berentius's safe houses. The Shadow Broker has to know about them."

"Agreed." I croaked. My voice was hoarse and it hurt to talk, but at least I could be understood. "Take us to Dardanus."

"What's there?" Kristine asked.

"A safe place, and friends." I replied.

"Okay, _buddy_. I'll get us there." Her voice oozed contempt. She no doubt wanted to know exactly what was going on. But I couldn't tell her. Or anyone else. "Probably take about four days or so."

I just nodded.

She turned to go, then turned back. "Who are you? You know my name, but I don't know yours."

I smiled. "My name is Brian Keefer, and I'm a Spectre. I'm after the Shadow Broker. He has something I want."


End file.
